Disclaimer - I own nothing of the Harry Potter universe. So there.

'Better Never than Late'

by Witherwings

Prologue

2nd May, 1998

Someone was screaming.

An anguished cry of terror, sorrow and denial that echoed throughout the ruins of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.

Hermione Granger stood alone at the foot of the stairs to the main doors but did not need to look around to find the source of the most terrible noise. The small fragment of her mind which remained detached from the unfolding nightmare of the scene before her informing her that the sound was in fact emanating from her.

Spreading out in a line within the confines of what remained of the school courtyard were the countless robed figures of Lord Voldemort's Death Eaters, the unmistakable bulk of Rubeus Hagrid easily identifiable at the centre of the large group. His ankles were shackled, resulting in an awkward, shuffling gait, his usually friendly, beetle black eyes, just visible behind his tangle of hair and beard, looked hollow and shone with tears. His arms however had been left unbound, and cradled tenderly within them, the reason for both his haunted look and Hermione's uncontrolled outburst - the limp form of Harry James Potter.

Next to Hagrid's enormous, part giant physique, Harry appeared no larger than a small infant in comparison. But, where a child, even one deep in slumber, would have been curled protectively towards the body of the person who carried it, Harry's head instead lolled back over the crook of Hagrid's elbow, his perpetually messy hair swaying to and fro as Hagrid lumbered forwards.

He can't be dead! He can't be dead! The words repeated over and over again within the prison of Hermione's mind as she refused to accept what her senses were telling her. It's a trick! It's not real. I would have felt it ... I would have known if he had ... If he had ...

An explosion of grief in the pit of her stomach left her unable to complete her line of thought. Hot tears fell from her eyes, each tracing a random path in the dirt and grime which coated her pale skin as the crushing reality descended on her - Harry Potter was dead.

He had disappeared shortly after Lord Voldemort had issued an ultimatum for his surrender in the mists of the battle for control of the castle. She now knew, despite Neville Longbottom's assurances that he had seen Harry within the grounds of the castle less than half an hour earlier proclaiming that 'it was all part of the plan', that Harry had indeed surrendered himself to his nemesis. It was, she noted with a mixture of pride and despair, exactly the kind of noble act of self-sacrifice that only Harry would have been capable of. Damn it Harry! You can't leave me ... Not now!

Unnoticed, other members of the defeated army of the light now joined her on the front steps, and they greeted their vanquishers by shouting and yelling angrily towards the triumphant Death Eaters.

"SILENCE!"

For the first time, Hermione's eyes fell upon the soulless monster who had taken the most important person in her life away from her: Voldemort. He raised his wand high overhead and silenced the crowd with blinding flash of light and a thunder-like clap of sound. The display of magic conjuring the image of a muggle tactical weapon known as a flash bang grenade in Hermione's mind, causing her to briefly wonder how her intellect could still concern itself with making such banal connections when her world was literally crumbling around her.

"It is over!" he proclaimed. "Set him down, Hagrid. Here at my feet ... where he belongs!"

No one made a sound. Even the morning chorus of the songbirds in the nearby forbidden forest seemed to fall silent as the crowd watched Hagrid lower Harry's limp body reverently to the ground. Hermione's stomach performing a pathetic sort of half flip as she bore witness to a scene which had plagued her nightmares for months. Were it not for the strong pair of hands which took hold of her shoulders at that moment, she knew she her knee's would have buckled beneath her; as it was, the sight of Harry's almost unblemished body caused her to sway unsteadily on her feet, an invisible chord pulling tight and constricting around her heart painfully as she realised the implications - only one spell could leave a victim so apparently unharmed yet prove so deadly.

Instinctively she dropped a hand to her abdomen just bellow her navel. The slight firmness she felt there offered a small modicum of comfort, but simultaneously served to drive home the magnitude of her devastating loss. Our devastating loss, she corrected. Our child will never know their father.

Lifting her gaze from her stomach, Hermione's face hardened as she locked her now deadened brown eyes on the pacing form of the vile creature who had stolen the man she had hoped to marry away from her.

The small part of her mind which maintained some semblance of control, noted with alarm that the earth shattering loss did not result in a renewed outpouring of grief. That realisation, however, was dismissed, forced deep within by another, more powerful emotion; for the first time in her life, Hermione Granger knew what it meant to experience true hatred. A murderous rage so powerful, that it would have truly frightened her had any rational part of her mind remained to analyse those emotions.

Distantly, as if heard from under water, Hermione registered that Voldemort was speaking again, but she could not take any meaning from the words, almost as if she had lost the ability to understand the spoken word.

"You see?" he said as he strode back and forth in front of Harry's body. "Harry Potter is dead! Do you understand now deluded ones? He was nothing but a boy who relied on others to sacrifice themselves for him!"

"He beat you!" yelled a familiar voice at her side.

A torrent of sound erupted from the survivors on the heels of Ron's proclamation, whom, Hermione now realised was the owner of the hands which had prevented her from falling. For a moment, she felt a brief surge of gratitude towards her former best friend, the betrayal of his promise months earlier briefly forgotten.

That respite, however, was fleeting, and she stoked the flames of her rage by adding Ron's betrayal to the hatred she was permitting to fill her from the insides out, the words of Bellatrix Lestrange had once spoken to Harry reverberating in her mind as she constructed a new plan of action. 'You need to mean them. You need to really want to cause pain — to enjoy it'.

A second, more powerful explosion from the tip of the Elder wand silenced the masses again.

"He was killed while trying to sneak out of the grounds," continue Voldemort serenely. "Killed whilst attempting to flee - "

"LIES!" Hermione couldn't prevent the single word exploding past her lips.

Voldemort broke off, his scarlet eyes narrowing as he turned his serpent-like face towards the source of the shouted outburst. "And what do we have here?" he said, his voice a dangerous, soft hiss. "A volunteer to show what happens to those who dare to challenge me?"

Hermione was breathing in short, ragged gasps as if she had just run a marathon, but did not flinch under Voldemort's appraising stare.

"Hermione?" Ron's voice was barely a whisper in her ear, "What are you doing? He'll kill you! You know Harry wouldn't want - "

"Don't talk about him like you knew him!" screeched Hermione, apoplectic, and she shook free of her former friends grasp and took a defiant stride forward making herself known to the Dark Lord.

A cruel smirk twisted Voldemort's features. "A little girl?" he taunted, a wave of mirthless laughter erupting from the ranks of his Death Eaters. "Brave ... but foolish of you child. No mortal can challenge me now."

But Hermione wasn't listening any more. She cared little for the army of Death Eaters who would surely strike her down the moment she so much as raised her wand. Nor did she concern herself with the remaining Horcrux which anchored Voldemort to life, safe within Nagini, who lay coiled some ten meters behind Harry's body. Right now all she wanted to do was to cause Voldemort as much pain and suffering as she was able to bring to bear on him - to watch him die a drawn out, protracted and agonising death, even if she could not truly rid the world of his evil. In fact maybe it was better he was immortal? That way she could kill him a thousand times over, until he too knew the extent of the pain, the crushing emptiness, she felt right now. Only then might she show him the mercy he had never shown his victims and end his existence once and for all.

As if in slow motion, and without conscious effort, she levelled her wand arm towards Voldemort, ready to unleash the vile energies of the same curse he had obviously used against Harry. She opened her mouth, and, channelling all the hatred and rage, she spoke the incantation that would end his reign of terror.

However, just at that moment, as if someone had hit fast forward on a muggle video player, several things appeared to happen at once, so that, even with the benefit of hindsight, she still could not say precisely how events had unfolded.

To a man, everyone of Voldemort's Death Eaters unleashed a barrage of energy towards her. The curses devouring the distance between them before she had so much as completed the first word of the most unforgivable of all curses, whilst out of the corner of her eye she saw a figure moving towards her at a flat run.

"Hermione, no!"

She just had time to register the voice as that of Neville Longbottom's before she was tackled to the floor, the Death Eaters curses sizzling past overhead.

A grunt of pain escaped Hermione's lips as she and Neville landed in a heap on the unyielding stone, the immediate loosening of Neville's protective hold around her upper torso informing her that the fall had likely knocked her fellow Gryffindor unconscious. Still securely clasped in his right hand which pinned her to the floor however, was a piece of tatty fabric that Hermione initially mistook to be just that, before she finally recognised it for what it was - the sorting hat. Although what Neville was doing with the magical relic which had once belonged to Godric Gryffindor himself was of little concern to her as her eyes scanned the faceless crowd for a glimpse of Voldemort so that she might finish the job.

Just then, a new voice rang out across the near silent crowd.

"Leave her alone, Riddle!"

Time appeared to snap back to its normal rate of progression and Hermione's heart soared as the most beautiful sound in the world reached her ears, forcing the darkness within her to dissipate as quickly as it had arisen. He's alive!

Voldemort spun on his heel, his flat face contorting with fear and anger in equal measure as his gaze fell upon, not only the figure of boy prophesied to bring and end to his reign, but also of the sight of a great many of his Death Eaters fleeing in terror having witnessed Harry's apparent resurrection.

"Impossible," he raged, his veneer of serenity disappearing as quickly as that of many of his army.

"Confringo!"

A ball of flame shot from Harry's wand, but although his aim was true, and the spell consumed it's target in a raging inferno, Hermione knew it would neither destroy the giant snake nor the Horcrux it carried inside. After all, the blasting spell had little effect when she had cast the very same curse against the serpent during their escape from Godric's Hollow all those months ago. Sure enough, though hissing and spitting in fury, Nagini emerged from the fireball unscathed.

The scene around them dissolved into chaos. Harry disappeared from sight once more, but whether he was under his cloak or simply shielded from sight by the mass of fighters streaming towards one another as battle resumed, she could not say. The air was filled with spells of every hue imaginable, and a distant rumbling, which could be felt more than heard, vibrated through the ground Hermione lay upon.

"Neville!" she screamed, trying and failing to free herself from his dead weight as she sensed, rather than saw, the great snake move closer in the melee. "Neville, you've got to wake up!"

Then, and for the second time that day, more things than she could keep track of appeared to happen at once.

She became aware of a great weight pressing into her hip. At first she thought that perhaps Neville was at last stirring, before she realised that the extra mass was being exerted on her, came, not from her friend, but from within the sorting hat - something was materialising there.

Next, through the haze created by the renewed battle, Nagini sprang towards them, her jaw wide and her fangs bared, the sound of the snake's vicious hissing lost amid the twang of bows and stampeding hoofs - the centaurs had joined the fray she noted distractedly.

Then, as if jolted by an electric shock, Neville's body spasmed and his eye's flew open. Instinctively his hand groped within the rim of the sorting hat and he pulled from within it something long and sliver which glittered with rubies. He immediately swung the blade Hermione now recognised as the sword of Gryffindor upwards, and, although no one could hear either the slash of the blade or the enraged hissing of the serpent, Hermione could feel every eye in the courtyard upon them.

With a single stroke Neville sliced off the great snake's head and Hermione saw Voldemort stumble slightly, his mouth set in a silent scream of fury as the body of his final Horcrux fell to the ground with a thud which she felt more than heard.

Now freed from their tangle of limbs, both Hermione and Neville scrambled to their feet, and a moment later found themselves caught up within a swell of bodies being buffeted and shoved towards the great hall as the battle was forced inside by the rampaging centaurs and remaining giants.

Spells flew from all directions and Hermione defended herself as best as she could, but there were simply too many combatants to keep track of, too many variables. On more than one occasion she felt certain she had failed to block a curse in time just to see it ricochet away as if blocked by some unseen wall.

The impromptu triage Madam Pomfrey had set up in the Great Hall was over-run as the retreating Death Eaters were herded inside, sending several of the walking wounded, who had been been receiving treatment, diving for cover.

Spurred on by the string of orders being issued by their master, Voldemort's loyal inner circle of Death Eaters proved to be fierce fighters, nevertheless, when faced with the advantage in numbers enjoyed by the Light - their ranks now swelled with Centaurs and even the Hogwarts House-elves - one-by-one Voldemort's supporters fell until only Bellatrix Lestrange and Voldemort himself remained fighting.

A curse of unknown intent whizzed past Ginny's ear so close that Hermione, now duelling Bellatrix alongside Luna Lovegood and Ginny Weasley herself, feared that even with the advantage of numbers they would not prove victorious against the undeniable duelling skill of Voldemort and his crazed supporter.

She had not however counted on Molly Weasley. "NOT MY DAUGHTER YOU BITCH!"

The Weasley matriarch pushed past the three school girls and fought with the skill of a master duellist. Within moments Bellatrix Lestrange lay dead on the floor, her face forever more set in a misplaced gloating smile.

There was no chance to celebrate the victory however. Voldemort, enraged by the death of his best lieutenant, channelled all of his fury into his wand and blasted back Kingsley, Slughorn and McGonagall, whom he had been duelling, before turning his wand on Mrs Weasley.

"PROTEGO!" roared Harry's voice, a sparkling shield charm expanding in the middle of the room as he tore off his invisibility cloak.

Hermione took half a step forwards to be at his side, but Harry, although speaking loud enough for the whole room to hear him seemed to be talking directly to her. "I don't want anyone to help," he said beginning to circle the shield to keep it between himself and his nemesis. "It's got to be like this. Just me and him."

Trusting that Harry knew what he was doing, Hermione pulled herself up short and listened intently as Harry described how he had willing gone to his death and how that had extended the protection his mother had once given him to every man, woman and child he loved or cared for, preventing any of Voldemort's curses from doing deadly harm.

Furthermore, Harry, ignoring the taunting of the man whom had once been Tom Riddle, explained that the Elder Wand Voldemort had stolen from the tomb of Albus Dumbledore would never recognise him as it's true master for he had never defeated the one to whom the wand had chosen allegiance.

Though she was more terrified than at any moment in her life, her heart beating a heady rhythm in her chest, Hermione could not deny that she was hugely proud of Harry, both for how he was carrying himself, but also for the logical thinking he was displaying - it all fit.

Nevertheless, when the two combatants shrieked their spells just at the moment the light of the new dawn spilled into the great hall, Hermione felt her heart freeze in her chest.

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

"EXPELLIARMUS!"

The bang was like a cannon blast and the two spells collided at the centre of the circle they had been treading, their energies erupting in a golden flame. Hermione watched, as did every other pair of eyes in the hall, as Voldemort's green jet struck Harry's own; watched as the Elder Wand spun high overhead towards the outstretched hand of the master it would not kill.

With the skill she had seen him display in countless quidditch matches, Harry snatched the wand out of the air with his free hand as Voldemort fell backwards, arms splayed, his slit pupils vacant and unseeing. Tom Riddle was dead.

Hermione released a breath she had been unaware of holding and sprinted towards Harry, reaching him first and pulling him into a fierce hug as a tumultuous noise erupted from the throng of people pushing forwards towards their saviour.

Hermione was dimly aware of shouts of congratulations issuing from all sides but she could not make out their contents as the world around her appeared to shrink until her whole universe consisted of just her and Harry. She placed kisses on every part of him she could reach and inhaled his scent in an attempt to commit it to memory. "Don't - you - ever - scare - me - like - that - again," she managed to choke out between alternate sobs and kisses.

"I promise," began Harry holding her close so that his words were for her ears only. "It's over now. He can't hurt us any more. We can be together. We can be a family and raise our - " Harry broke off his assurances as he felt Hermione tense around him.

Hermione tried to call his name, but, though she worked the muscles of her jaw, only a hiss of pain escaped her trembling lips before she screwed her eyes tightly shut and doubled over in pain. She collapsed, first to her knees, gasping for breath, both of her hands protectively clamped around her abdomen, before toppling onto her side curled into the foetal position.

"HERMIONE!" Harry yelled, as he too dropped to the floor. "Somebody help her!"

All around her she could hear the commotion as numerous voices, both omnipresent yet distant at the same moment, called out for assistance, but she could not make out their meaning as she fought to remain conscious.

"Hermione! HERMIONE!" Harry's panic filled voice cut through the blinding pain once more and she used it as her anchor to the waking world, instinctively realising that to lose consciousness at this moment would be very grave. Through sheer force of will she lifted her head and regarded him with beseeching eyes. "T-the baby." The two words she managed to force past her lips were the merest of whisper, but the panic she saw reflected within Harry's emerald eyes told her he understood.

But before Harry had a chance to respond in any other manner, a new voice spoke above the commotion her collapse had caused; a voice both chillingly familiar and yet also completely alien.

"FOOLS!" The voice, though little more than a sigh on a distant breeze, conversely seemed to fill Hermione's world completely. "Did you really believe you could kill me? I, who have gone further than any other on his quest for immortality."

Based on the fact that no one else had reacted in any manner to the new voice, the part of Hermione's mind which remained detached from the now excruciating pain, reasoned that only she could hear it. Knowing she could not maintain her tenuous hold of consciousness much longer, Hermione forced her eyes to remain open for a few more seconds and she focused her gaze towards the corpse of Lord Voldemort.

What she saw there chilled her to the core.

Mere shadow and vapour, the words Harry had once used to describe Voldemort's existence nearly seven years ago surfaced within her mind.

Coalescing above the Dark Lord's body rose a vaguely humanoid mist, it's features ill defined but nonetheless easily recognisable - Voldemort. Like a storm front making landfall, Voldemort's shadow rushed towards her, Hermione's last awareness that of a high pitched scream of terror renting the air as the cloud enveloped her.

Author Musings - Hello everybody. Today marks one year to the day that I uploaded my very first piece of fanfiction, so, as an anniversary treat to myself, here's a preview of my next Harmony story.

I warn you now, it will not be completed anytime soon, but if you guys like it I'll keep working away at it in any spare time I get.

I would also like to thank the ever wonderful, Katesmom2 and HarmonyLover for their support, good humour and patience with me during the many months this has been on the drawing board. Thanks girls.

Oh, I should make clear that this is NOT the sequel to the Needs of the One. That is called The Needs of the Many, and is a WiP behind closed doors at the moment.

Until next time peeps...